


janus

by orphan_account



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Episode: s02e12 You Are Not Your Own, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-16
Updated: 2017-06-16
Packaged: 2018-11-14 16:44:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11212095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: The stark-bright lights flooded his vision. His vision. His eyes. His body, his body, his body. His mind in its rightful place. His hands fielding his magic. His memories playing in his head.He stared into his reflection’s eyes again.His, his, his.





	janus

**Author's Note:**

> I've always found the first few hours after something traumatic occurs to be some of the strangest times of my life - and that is saying something. That feeling of being present and all too aware, yet disjointed and confused. I wanted to write about that so here we are.  
> Title after the Roman god Janus, a God of beginnings, depicted as having two faces.  
> descriptions of dissociative symptoms, trauma response, death/grief discussion.

 

 

 

**I must enter, and leave, alone.**

**I know not how.**

\-- _Lights Out by Edward Thomas_ \--

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Magnus, tell me how to fix this. Just tell me what to do. Please.” 

 

The room was quiet, dark and lacking - Magnus had never seen it quite like this, from this angle. Slow lamp-lit amber light pooled around him, settled in a silence all too overwhelming to be anything _but_ silence. He felt it climb inside him, like it had been waiting to do so for centuries, and lays his tongue dead-flat in disuse. Shadows fall across the surface of everything.

 

Alec doesn’t move, save for lowering his head. He sat still and patient beside him. Magnus wasn't sure what to do, what to ask - if there was anything to do or ask at all now. He knew he wanted Alec to stay - wanted to watch him longer, pull in something familiar and warm from him. 

 

He wanted to see if he still knew Alec. 

 

His gaze shifted, settling on Alec’s hands that were firmly placed on his lap, stroking his thighs gently to calm himself, Magnus assumed. He wanted to speak, tell Alec about the feeling in his throat, about the way he could still feel phantom-pressure laying hard against his wrists, not these wrists - he doesn’t. He doesn’t mention Alec’s hands - that had done such terrible things, and how their gentleness was just as unsettling to watch. There is nothing he could say that would make anyone else understand, and he couldn’t bring himself to pretend long enough to try.Where could he even start? 

 

“I -“ Alec said, but paused. Thought. Threw his head back slightly as if to try tip the words into his mouth. “I can make you some tea?” He offered, and Magnus almost laughed at his odd pragmatism - but nodded instead, barely lifting his head. 

 

Alec left, slight and soft-footed towards the kitchen - Magnus watched as he slipped through rooms, unsure of how to sit with himself, how to not focus in on the weighted rocks in his chest when he couldn't occupy himself with focusing on figuring out Alec’s movements. The echoes got louder and louder. Alec clattering, slightly, in the kitchen reverberated around unnaturally loud - too quick and focussed then lost into a repetitive loop that rings around Magnus’s head until it sounded like howling, hawking groans. 

 

His hands were shaking, he realised, just a small tremor in the fingers. It had caught his eye though, the small nerve-shake drawing in his attention. The effects of what had happened were still unclear - Magnus hadn’t had time to ruminate on the side effects of the switch, but a tremor or two seemed inevitable. Rolling his shoulder back produced a small bone-click that Magnus wasn’t sure was his or not, maybe he had just never noticed before. Maybe. 

 

He sat up straighter, he looked around his loft - his  _home_ \- and tried to not think about Valentine. Maybe, he thought, he could redecorate - some new curtains, a new painting perhaps. Re-do his floors, new bookcase and - 

 

The thought of Valentine pacing through here, mind all wrapped up in Magnus’s own body, interrupted him. Magnus wondered what he had touched, where he had been. What he had said with Magnus’s voice, what he did with Magnus’s hands. 

 

Nausea rose in him, he straightened his back further and ignored the slight sweat-sick feeling in his gut. 

 

It was over. _Ended_. He was himself again. 

 

But the terror wouldn’t leave for rational reasoned thought - all his breaths came in thick and hard, he could feel his lungs expand weakly as he tried to keep pace and slow his heart. He tried not to think, but the thoughts were too large to be forced down, too present and surface-sitting that Magnus couldn’t help but let them flood in. 

 

Every inch of him had been rewritten, forced into a body that wasn’t his own - he endured and endured and endured, but it had come to seem that the light was still only a brief, finite space between two darknesses. His whole life proof of time only passing as a waiting game between terrible things, and his once steeled-armour exterior turned to soft, brutal hide. 

 

Magnus stood up, abruptly, and decided to head for the kitchen. His legs stiffer, walking in a series of movements that felt unnatural and unowned, he made it to the doorway and pressed himself slant against it silently. 

 

Alec was opening and closing cabinets haphazardly - he’d been here enough to know where things were, Magnus knew, but he had a habit of unknowingly complicating things when he was stressed. Magnus watched, taking in his soft muttering and ever-gentle movements. 

 

“I can see you,” Alec said, an uncomfortable levity to his voice. 

 

Magnus smiled, a little weakly, “Can you?” He watched another cupboard door close as Alec turned to look at him properly, holding two mugs in his hands now - any words he had planned lost to the whistle of the kettle. “Sugar is in the container third from the left.” He added, before Alec could put his mind to anything else, and turned around, still in the doorway, to look over as the last of the sunlight faded across from the balcony doors. He wondered how many sunsets he had seen in his lifetime now. How many he had truly watched - how many had taken his breath away. Too many, or perhaps not enough. 

 

So _old_ , he thought, yet never old to outlive the pain. And now outgrown the youthful naivety that led him to think he still had the chance to - that given enough time he could live with it. There was never going to be enough time. Time was always one step ahead of him. He had thought, at times in his long life, about trying to find some way of going back - play handyman, fix whatever needed to be fixed. Never happened. Not once. Even if the possibility had arisen he knew he would have never been brave enough to try. There were confrontations he had avoided for good reason, he had thought himself too old to start trying to tear out the roots of all the dead parts in him. Too old to start the process of letting go. 

 

It had been best to ignore - refuse to look over his shoulder and face the innumerable ghost he knew where there, waiting. It had been best, at least he had thought that - _believed_ it even. Talking calmly and abstractly about his life as if it had never happened to him - as though he had looked at the events through the eyes of a stranger. It had worked, he was still here. But he couldn’t ignore the eerily-melodic voices behind him anymore, calling to be remembered. No matter how much he wished to set it all aside. Grief was tidal - a regular motion in and out, washing away to see all reason and concentration. Bit by bit. Eyes set adrift, mind full of sea-salt and driftwood. Time rushing, pausing, retreating back into the sea - moving back and back and - 

 

“Tea.” Alec appeared beside him suddenly, Magnus held down his shudder at the slight shock and instead took a mug from Alec’s hands. “I couldn’t quite remember how you make it.” He said, stepping out from Magnus’s side and began walking towards the sofa. Magnus followed, settled himself in the same spot as before with Alec inched slightly further away. 

 

“Too much sugar,” Magnus said, between sips - Alec smiled and let out a small breathy laugh as he watched Magnus continue to drink regardless. 

 

“I’ll make note for next time.” Alec returned, before trying to drink his own tea without screwing up his face too much at the taste. 

 

Magnus’s mind was working in contradictions. It seemed hard to place Alec into a once easily definable category. He could still feel it all, the image of Alec’s hands at his collar, he could still see the anger and confusion and hurt in his eyes. The familiarity of Alec’s face seemed tampered with. Changed, ever so slightly.

 

He could remember Alec, warm-glow of the morning light across his bare shoulders. Face placid and gentle in his sleep, the soft curve of his neck under Magnus’s fingers. The tension through his spine distant and forgotten, relaxing in tameness. He could remember. But it felt off. Like something he had told himself true. 

 

He knew what happened, he knew why Alec had reacted the way he did, he knew all of it fine well - but he still couldn’t force his mind to understand any of it. To be okay with it. To not feel like there was still a plexiglass wall between him and Alec which he could not cross. Which Alec _could_ , if he chose to, walk right through uninvited. 

 

He couldn’t understand it. Couldn’t force it into something he could make sense of. The feeling of dislocation and threat wasn’t relenting. 

 

Something had shifted, knitted together half-mended and off center. He felt as if his throat should be coarse and dry from screaming, but it no longer was. He felt indents and grazes from restraints that never touched him there. He sees violence in the man next to him, he can’t stop seeing it. He's tried. 

 

The shake in his hand worsened. What was he supposed to do? He had screamed and he had reasoned, he had been honest and put his faith in a love and trust he felt so strongly, that he still felt _so strongly_ , but it had only scarcely been enough in the end. What was he supposed to _do_? 

 

Mind swimming in unanswerable questions, he took to staring at his hands. Focussing on the small lines and indents, turning them to see his life-line unbroken and curved across his palm. Alec was quiet enough beside him that Magnus could pretend he’s not there, for a moment, pretend all that exists in the universe is him and his hands - his own hands now, fingers bending when he wills them but still a foreign shake he can’t control - 

 

“Magnus.” 

 

\- still a part of his movement that isn’t his own. He folded his fingers into his hand, pressed his fingernails hard-sharp against his palm. Maybe he could severe his life-line, cut it in half, know where it ended for once. Knowing there would be an end. Knowing -

 

“Magnus?” 

 

\- anything for certain at all anymore. He wasn’t sure what was right, what was his and what wasn’t. He felt clumsy and strange inside his own body still, felt as if there was something waiting - breathing hot down his neck just waiting for him to feel comfortable again before it's set-jaws tightened at his neck. There was always something lurking off-corner, always another strike down to be landed against him. A threat left unanswered but always ready to be realised. Anything could -

 

 

“ _Magnus?_ ” 

 

\- happen. At one point he had thought that all pain would be new, and then after he had thought all pain would be known, all of it able to be dealt with as he had encountered it all before - thought he should know how to navigate it seamlessly. How long would he have to lay in awe of the vastness of it all. How many times would the same wound appear on him and inflict the same pain as every other iteration. How, after all this time, could it still knock him down - show him he had never truly known his loss until this very moment. Repeat, repeat, _repeat_ -

 

“ _Magnus_.” 

 

He whipped his head around, realising Alec was speaking. 

 

“Do you need anything?” Alec asked, head tilted in concern. 

 

Magnus thought - or tried to at least. He felt like his body needed to move in a thousand different ways but he couldn’t keep up, his mind moved through thoughts incomplete as he tried his best to avoid looking at the quiet, reverential way Alec was looking at him. 

 

“I’m going to bed,” he said, finally, standing steel-straight so suddenly Alec flinched. “You can stay here - if you like.” Magnus didn’t look back to catch Alec staring. 

 

 

* * *

 

 

Magnus blinked as he walked into his ensuite. The lights stumbled on shakily, the flickering vague flashes in the mirror caught his attention. He hadn’t looked at himself, not since -

 

He walked over, eyes focused down to the tiled floor, almost bracing himself to look up and be faced with the same unfamiliar expression as he had seen in the plexiglass-reflection of his - _Valentine’s_ \- cell. It was strange, a feeling of being on the brink of something else, something nightmarish, made only more horrid by its now sickening fact. He felt as reality could snap in on itself, reveal itself as something that was now too familiar. He felt sick. Stomach churning, almost feeling the acid-burn at the back of his throat. He looked up. 

 

It was his face, of course it was. He looked at himself, his eyes, his nose, everything his own - it felt distant somehow. Uncanny. Blurry, like when sun-heat rises on the roads. Almost there, but just so slightly off-centre. Pulled directionless. 

 

It was horrible because it wasn’t horrible. It was normal, he was in his own body again. But it didn’t feel complete, it didn’t feel comfortable and safe as it had before. Bringing a hand up to his face he dragged his fingers flat against his cheek softly. Felt his skin, slightly sweat-slick, unreal and unfamiliar beneath his fingertips. He looked at himself dead-set in the eyes - tired and scared in ways he had never believed himself to have ever looked - and cried. 

 

The entire ordeal had been loud. Screeching, torturous screams and pleas shouted to deaf ears. He wanted to be loud again - scream and sob and strip off that calm, practiced tone to let himself shout at a world that never listened. 

 

He didn’t. Instead, he stared at his own reflection momentarily, before wiping his few tears away with the back of his hand. 

 

He stared and stared and stared. Nothing changed. No shifting features turned back into the feral but calculating snarl of Valentine Morgenstern. Nothing changed, but it had changed so much already. 

 

Whirring electrics dizzied him, the sound of his fan and light buzzing static seemed to transfer through all his thoughts, connected the mirror to his face to his thoughts to the sound - continuous motions and ideas merging. Creating something that surrounded him unnatural but lowly. He wasn’t sure what to think anymore. He wasn’t sure _how_ to think. He wanted to ask Alec to leave, but he wanted him to stay, to curl up protective beside him and never move again. He wanted to cry again, but didn’t. To scream, but couldn’t. He wanted to know what Valentine was feeling, if he knew the same fracture-thoughts, he wanted to know if he suffered as well. 

 

He wanted to stop. Just for a moment - for everything to fall into a flat nothingness. To fall down into the darkness where he didn’t need his eyes, into a silence that didn’t require him to hear it. He wouldn’t be lucky enough to get any of that, he knew, he had to continue.

 

He considered using his magic to remove the slightly smudged and obviously uncared for makeup he was wearing. Letting a small, light glow of blue shift on his palm, oneiric and slow, he stared at it and wondered how Valentine had managed to figure it all out so quickly. It had taken Magnus years to control it, know it deeply enough to understand the connections drawn between his body and his mind to use it effectively. His magic was part of him, a thing drawn from experience, control. Power. He let his palm close and the light fade in wisps. 

 

He had been forced into using his magic. Blackmailed, threatened, coerced - even seen his magic act of its own accord seemingly, uncontrolled and tied to his instincts and a distant primal need to survive. This was different. He had been completely removed from the actions this time. 

 

His magic was _his_. He had tamed it, controlled it - it had brought him pain, brought him notoriety, saved and suffered. It was his. Only he could wield it, or he had thought so, at least- or, he never even had to think at all, it was a fact he never consciously _had_ to accept. 

 

Until now, until the fact was proven inaccurate. Wishful. The parts of himself he felt no one would ever be able to reach had been opened out, used. The guttural disgust he felt turned stronger. 

 

_His_ magic. _His_ memories. _His_ body. Now porous, permeable. Boundaries able to be crossed. 

 

The stark-bright lights flooded his vision. His vision. His eyes. His body, his body, _his body_. His mind in its rightful place. His hands fielding his magic. His memories playing in his head. 

 

He stared into his reflection’s eyes again.

 

His, his, _his_. 

 

Eyes dilated unnaturally in the light, Magnus focussed on routine. 

 

* * *

 

 

Magnus walked quietly back through his bedroom door, shirt and blazer shed for his more casual pajamas. He stopped in the doorway, hand curled around the deep wooden frame and looked out into his living room where Alec stood in front of one of his bookshelves. Hands grazing the spines of various books Alec looked still. Calmed. Magnus tilted his head around slightly to get a better look. 

 

Alec had a strange softness to him sometimes. A careful tenderness that never quite matched his strength or cold-steel stare. Magnus had always found it intriguing - watching him slowly, worshipfully gather himself around the world, seemingly without the guard he had up most of his life. It had reminded Magnus of how young Alec was - the care and attentiveness he could put into such a simple task that was browsing a bookshelf without any agenda or urgency. 

 

It was simplistic in a way Alec rarely ever was. 

 

“Weren’t you supposed to be going to bed?” Alec asked, suddenly, smiling while not taking his eyes of the book he’d taken interest in. 

 

Magnus pushed up on his shoulder and walked away from the doorframe slowly. “Can’t help that I caught you snooping.” Seeing Alec turn concerned, Magnus cut his thought off before he had the chance, “You’re fine, you can take something to read if you like.” He was standing mid-way between his bedroom door and Alec now - focussed in on Alec’s smile as his head dipped down embarrassed. It set Magnus at ease, slightly.

 

He moved over to the sofa, sitting down more relaxed and spread-out than earlier. There was a small note of comfort in it all now - familiarity. Alec followed suit after a moment, book in hand, and sat beside Magnus a little closer than before. 

 

Alec had picked up a small, dog-eared paperback with its clear plastic covering peeling at the edges slightly. “What did you pick?” Magnus asked, already reaching out to push the cover up slightly to see. 

 

Alec flipped it over to read properly, “' _The Theory and Application of Technological Interference by Use of Magic_ ’ - looked interesting.” 

 

“Very interesting,” Magnus let his hand drop slowly and settle a small distance from Alec’s legs, “Revolutionised the entire understanding of energy transference in electrical magic.” 

 

“I didn’t even know that was a _thing_.” Alec said, laughing slightly, “But I guess there's lots Shadowhunters don’t know.” 

 

Magnus just hummed a little noncommittally, “There’s time to learn.”

 

Alec nodded and flipped open the first few pages of the book to the introduction. Magnus had never known much about Shadowhunter education, aside from a few anecdotal stories by friends over the years. It had never really occurred to him to ask - assuming it would mostly be training and rune study, plus whatever passed as a history lesson by the Clave’s standards. He wondered how little Alec had even been taught about magic that wasn't deemed useful by the Clave.

 

“What did you like learning when you were younger?”, he asked, his train of thought continuing out-loud. 

 

Alec looked up, confused slightly, opened his mouth but seemed to get his words cluttered for a moment. “I don’t really know,” he admitted, looking disappointed in his answer. 

 

“I’ve always loved history. Though, living through a lot of it makes reading about it a challenge.” Magnus crossed his legs over and leaned against the armrest casually as he spoke, “Makes me doubt my own memories sometimes, the things people write and get wrong.” 

 

“I liked history,” Alec said, hesitantly, “I liked reading.” 

 

“Languages?” Magnus asked, “I assume you all learn Latin.” 

 

Magnus thinks - _Angelos_ , messenger.

 

“I was okay at them - never particularly enjoyed learning any of them,” Alec closed his book, setting it aside on the coffee table, “Izzy and Jace were always better at those sorts of things than me.” 

 

Magnus paused, “ _Jace?_ Really?” 

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Seems… so quiet for him. Sedentary,” Magnus said, considering it, “I would have thought him quite opposed to academics.” 

 

_Monere_ , warning.

 

“Jace enjoys being good at things.” Alec leaned back into the sofa, running his hand over the armrest, “He doesn’t care what exactly it _is_ he’s good at.” 

 

_Angel_ , one who is sent with message. 

 

“So, what about _you_?” Magnus pushed, “What were you good at” 

 

Alec hesitated, again, unsure. “I did decently at most things.” He ran his fingernails over the fabric of the armrest lazily, “I preferred reading in my own time - not that I had a lot of choice in books.” 

 

Magnus tilted his head, urging Alec to continue. 

 

“I liked classics, I guess. Stories. There wasn’t a lot of mundane literature around but a few things showed up. I liked stories about heroes.” He paused, looked up at Magnus. “That’s silly.” 

 

_Monster_ , a portent.

 

Magnus smiled, fondly, and reassured, “Not silly at all” 

 

“Izzy used to get me paperbacks every year for my birthday.” 

 

Angelos, monere. Angel, monster. Messenger, warning, portent.

 

Was the distinction necessary, he wondered? Important? Alec could be more than one thing - not all of them had to be good. The truth was complicated. Magnus knew that, he didn’t need to be taught again, but it all seemed so blurry. Everything held up just a thorough as the next thing - everything made up the whole and Magnus could see all of it now. Every two-toned part. He didn’t need to be shown it, he had always known it was there. 

 

Did it matter? 

  

“What sorts of books?” He asked, not sure what he was doing - maybe he needed to hear someone else’s voice. Maybe he needed to convince himself of something - trying to remember who Alec was before this. Before any of it. 

 

“She bought me a James Bond novel once when we were kids because there was a bow on the cover.” Alec smiles fondly at the recollection, “A big book of Shakespeare plays once, as well.” His hands have found there way entwined in each other, fingers running over each other like he always did when he wasn’t holding anything. 

 

Magnus stared, again. Saw their roughness and their gentleness. Both at once, neither canceling out the other. 

 

He didn’t know what he was doing. 

 

“I can see where your flare for dramatics comes from then,” Magnus smirked. Alec met him with another smile. 

 

The tension lulled into something calmer. Alec picked up his book again, turning pages until he found his place. It was all so calm, Magnus thought, all so terribly normal that it felt so strange to just sit and talk. Sit and watch as his boyfriend read one of his books while they sat in a comfortable silence. 

 

He wanted to stop here, let nothing else happen in his head for a while. Stop right in this moment and live in a thousand times over until he was sick of it - sick of normal. Sick of calm. 

 

He was tired of going into the dark so many times. Always coming out, slowly but assured, even if the stink of it lingered - always returning. He was tired of waiting for the next thing to fall dead at his feet. The next time a new horror struck and he had to accept it, fight it, live through it - he was tired of knowing those horrors would keep coming. Everything else just a moment of rest between them.

 

Time was never kind. Relentless and cruel and taking, taking, taking until Magnus felt he had nothing left to take. There had always been something though. Always something to be stolen, resurfaced, it never mattered what really, it never was easy. 

 

A little peace. A little step outside of time, for a moment. Just a small moment of calm and threat-distant peace to live in for a while. 

 

He’d never get it, he knew that but he could never bring himself to stop wanting it - no matter how hard he tried to. 

 

Alec shifted, yawned a little. Magnus didn’t know how long they’d sat there - a small amount of Alec’s book had been read. 

 

“Sleep?” Magnus asked, resulting in a weary nod from Alec as he got up. 

 

* * *

 

 

Magnus had been convinced since the first time they had shared a bed, that Alec had never had a comfortable nights sleep in his life.He’d lain so unnaturally stiff and straight-limbed, head facing up, that Magnus had thought Alec was overthinking the whole scenario and it was an attempt to hide the fact he didn’t know where to lie. He was wrong, well, slightly - Alec definitely did not know what he was doing, but the problem had roots much further back. Alec couldn’t have slept in a position any sane man could define as comfortable to save his life. 

 

It took weeks of Magnus maneuvering them both around every time they were in bed to figure out how to get Alec on his side without him wriggling around all night. It had made Alec laugh to think even the way he had slept was so restrictive. 

 

They weren’t touching tonight. Alec lay on his side, one hand resting under his head, the other in no-man’s land between him and Magnus. Magnus mirrored his position. 

 

He didn’t know if he wanted to cling onto Alec for as long as he could, or if he wanted to turn around and try to forget he was there.

 

He didn’t think he could handle someone’s hands on him right now, no matter who’s they were. He stayed still, Alec made no attempt to move either - eyes opening and closing softly and breathing evening out into a slow rhythm. 

 

The wind outside moved in howls at the window, the soft spectral sound easing Magnus’s mind. It had been a long day, too long. Impossible in its length, and he could only be glad it was done now. Exhaustion had taken his concentration away. The orange-glow of the city lights coming in through the gaps in the curtains fell in slants over them, but darkness covered the rest of the room. Magnus stared intensely at the shadows - let his hand turn and twists in them where they gathered in the folds in his sheets. They looked solid, almost, visible and consolidated. Reachable. 

 

Slants of dim-light, moveable darkness. The room was alive with an energy Magnus couldn’t explain, moving slowly in-between him and Alec, him and the room, him and the world. Everything had no edges, everything was reachable. Visible. 

 

Alec looked just as exhausted as Magnus felt - his eyes downcast and fighting to stay open in short bursts. He looked young but war-aged at the same time. 

 

Maybe it was best he didn’t understand, Magnus thought. Maybe it was best some things were always slightly out of his grasp. 

 

He felt lead and sickened. All heavy and weak with a need to rest. A place to be at peace. Lost parts of him had come home, new parts only just arriving - all coming from places so far-away yet so painfully close. It felt so large, sitting there in his chest, so unreachable unlike everything else. Grief, things long forgotten and lost even longer. All caught in a flood of pain. 

 

It was too large, too heavy. Magnus felt he was sinking through his mattress at the weight. Sinking through the earth, down and down and down and -

 

Nothing lessened over time. Nothing shrunk itself down to pieces he could face head-on. They all turned their faces to the sun in the end, demanding to be looked at, observed. Reasoned and dealt with - though, he knew, reason never stood a chance against any of this. 

 

Grief, sorrow, pain. Grief innumerable, sorrow unfulfilled, pain constant. Dislocation following him dog-like. 

 

He looked at Alec again, soft-sleeping lion, teeth all reigned in and gentle breaths smooth. 

 

_Angelos, monere._

 

It wasn’t important he knew which one Alec was, as long as he knew Alec. 

 

“I can see you,” Alec said, hushed and low, eyes flickering open just slightly to look over at Magnus’s. 

 

Magnus smiled. “I know.” 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for all the kind comments and responses to my fics - and any other content I have posted in relation to this fandom! I'm orphaning all my fics here so these are the titles of other Shadowhunters fics I have posted:   
> A Guest  
> Errands  
> Janus


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